Frozen Heart
by Burnished Angel
Summary: A series of one shots. I'll update when I can. All will be set before the movie. First, Jack's "creation". Chose angst because, well, what else? Will take requests. Keep reasonable. No romance.
1. Creation

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians

Jack opened his eyes and blinked.

The moon shone benevolently upon him as he stared up into the night sky. He lay there for a moment savoring the odd, contented feeling until a voice whispered into his ear.

"Jack Frost" with those two little words, he knew his name. He had no real base to say this, but a deep nigging in his subconscious that told him that the voice was the Man in the Moon and his creator. Not his father, but his creator. If he had a father then he would need a mother. And he knew he didn't have one of those.

His feet touched down on ice, and he realized he had somehow floated off the surface without realizing. Then he noticed he wasn't cold. It was most likely mid-winter, but he felt easy and content.

A long stick sat at his feet. Slipping slightly, he bent down. It was heavier than he expected. He lost his grip, and to his astonishment, the lake froze at its touch. He glided to the shore. When he got there, he tapped his crook on a tree and watched in amazement as frost formed instantly. Intricate patterns more beautiful than he had ever seen (Seen? Wasn't he made only a few minutes ago?) before.

He broke into a brilliant smile. Pure joy lit up his eyes as he poked the next tree. He laughed and jumped back onto the lake upon seeing a new web of frost bloom. He spun and skated, icing the lake as he went. He had no planned picture in mind, just to have fun. He was surprised when he heard a rush of whispering voices whip through the forest. They pluck him right off the lake and into the air. They whispered to him that this was his work, his job, as he stared down at his frozen creation. But before they dropped him, they told that there was no reason he couldn't have fun doing it.

The abrupt reintroduction to the ground hurt less than he thought it would. It felt weird actually. Even with the nice snow cushioning his fall, he felt like he should be hurting in the chest. A lot. He sat up without difficulty and patted himself down to check for bruises. Out of habit (habit?), he placed his hand on his left chest. He found himself oddly bothered when he felt nothing. It wasn't hurting so it wasn't injured there. But, he had this feeling that there should have been a steady throbbing. He shook his head and laughed. That was silly. Why should he want his chest to hurt so bad it was throbbing?

With that done he ran to a village he knew to be nearby. (All this unknown knowledge must have come from the Man in the Moon. He probably wasn't listening real well when he was told.) He called out to the many people in heavy clothes that were walking by. They ignored him. So he made his way through the marketplace, careful not to bump into anyone.

Then he saw a pair of children come chasing after their wayward dog. They would help him! He was fun and children couldn't ignore fun!

They ran through him. Not around, through. Only notice they took was to shiver and decide it was too cold to play.

Jack was frozen. People walked through him left and right. Was he a ghost? Did he exist? This place. It hurt. It hurt so much. He hated it. It scared him how they could hurt him so much when it was nothing when the winds dropped him. He hated it.

He was going to make it go away. Make it so they couldn't hurt him anymore. They scared him, so he had to get rid of them.

Truth was, he didn't know how.

A/N:Please PM me if you see any grievous mistakes or have a request. Though I won't guarantee that I wll use it.


	2. Mali

Disclaimer:I don't own Legend of the Guardians

* * *

Summer was _definitely_ not Jack's favorite season. While the pretty dark haired lady was nice, she was also warm. She was even hot when she was mad. Her presence was uncomfortable to say the least. At least he knew the situation was reversed when it came his time to kick her out.

But he didn't want to leave his lake.

"You can come back you know." He blinked and looked at her. "Ah, right. You're new. Let me explain things to you. I'm Mali, the Spirit of Summer. _The_ spirit. You see, there are a bunch of little sprites that help me with my job. I bring summer to one hemisphere of the world while you take winter to the other." His head was beginning to hurt. She laughed gently at his expression. "You're probably wondering how the heck you're supposed to do this. Well, I can't help you there. Meeting you here today is the closest I've ever gotten to winter. You can tell the spirits of seasons apart from sprites, holiday spirits, and myths by a few things. One, myths almost never leave their home counties. They are incredibly weak, but prideful. Once they lost their followers, and in turn sacrifices, they essentially became hollow shells. Don't bring that stuff up if you meet them. They're sore about it to say the least. Hol-"

"Myths, didn't you... call them shells?" Jack asked. He had lost a good bit of practice in talking in the short three months since his creation. "Then why! I mean... They can't do nothing so... Why not talk bout the folwers?"

"Ho boy, this is bad. You should practice talking, even if they can't hear you. There are others out there that can see you. I myself am an example. Though not the best considering that we're ten feet apart a you're just about buried in a leftover snowbank. But you shouldn't talk about followers is because it's like twisting a rusted knife in an old wound. There is a difference between that and teasing. Holiday spirits are dependent on belief for their power. The Tooth Fairy falls in that category as well. They also have a main base of operations. Those places are huge and gorgeous due to centuries of work. Sprites are at most a meter tall. They usually have wings though can have other means to fly. There are a ton of different ones but the first you should learn to memorize are your own winter, fall, and spring. Winter sprites have to listen to your instructions when you give them. They also wear shoes.-"

* * *

A/N: This chapter is basically exposition. Mali well meaning, she knows what Jack is going through. She can't help him because she's well, summer incarnate. In my fic Jack was created in February by the way.

The spirits of seasons receive a boost from the belief of children, but a mainly powerhouses on their own. They have a huge job with the season's cycle. *Note. Jack went over 350 years without believers and he was still one of the most powerful characters.

For those who want to want to know more about Mali; she's named after the country Mali, in Africa. She is not actually from there, she looks more Hispanic than anything. Her hair is very dark brown, not quite black. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, and is wearing a deep green tunic shirt, slightly too big, and brown frayed pants. She has a hammerspace brown pack slung over her shoulder. She is barefoot. Both she and Jack hate shoes.

I just want people to know that I will try to get longer. I just have school, sports, homework, overbearing parents and a slew of other things. I was only able to write this chapter due to chronic insomnia.

Lastly, these are not going to always be in chronological order. It is a series of one shots. I might cross over with other series sometimes. For instance, I'm thinking of encounters between Dumbledor and Jack.


	3. Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians

Just a **warning**, there is explicite murder in this chapter. Also mentions of rape and suicidal thoughts._ This is not going to be a fluffy -shot._ You have been warned.

* * *

Jack loved Russia. He loved it even more than Canada and Greenland. It was so cold and nice there.

He decided to spend his twice a month sleep in a small forest by some rich people's place. They had several kids, but the youngest (Alexei or something) had to stay inside. It was silly how they made the girls wear those silly dresses. They looked horrible to play in.

He fell asleep to the sound of their laughter.

* * *

He woke to gunshots. He didn't hesitate to fly into the complex. It wasn't like they could hurt him. The noise broke off within minutes. The silence was deafening.

The window to the room was nonexistent. The bullets had taken out all the glass. He didn't go inside. There was no point.

He flew away as quick as he could. Just outside the barrier, he fell to the ground and dry heaved. The winds murmured condolences and reassurance into his ears. For once it wasn't what he needed to hear. They reminded him that he couldn't die. So he didn't have to worry about it. Too bad he wanted to.

He didn't blame them though. They just didn't understand. As long as Jack was safe and happy, they didn't care about humans.

But those bodies. They were riddled with holes. Blood slicked the walls around them and leaked from their wounds. The walls seemed ready to collapse from the hundreds of bullet holes. He couldn't get it out of his head. He had to get it out. He had to do something.

Where were the killers? Those kids were dead. He didn't have to hold back. He would make it so they died for what they did.

"межд?"* A voice trembled from behind him. It was a girl. One got away. Relief flooded him. They weren't all gone. But he looked at her, she could see him.

She peered around a tree. Her fancy dress was torn. Almost the entire skirt was gone.

It didn't bother him though. He had seen people wearing less. If anything, he was happiest when he saw less. Whenever he saw naked women in the snow, they were dead. He had once listened to it. He couldn't look. But he couldn't leave either.

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. That wasn't important right now. He had to help this girl. He lowered his crook and made sure to look as unthreatening as possible.

"Кто вы?"* She shrank back from him. His mind raced. He had been to Russia before. He actually spent a lot of time there. He knew the language. It was just hard to speak it. He had no reason to before. He quickly pieced together a sentence.

"Я Джек Фрост. Мне не больно. Я хочу помочь."*** She hesitated. Jack began to hear pursuers crashing through the forest.

"нареч?"**** Right. Like she had time to debate about it

"Извините! Но у нас нет времени на это!"***** He sprinted forward and tackled her.

They never hit the ground. The moment he grabbed her, the winds snatched them away. Within minutes, they were miles away.

If he needed to breath, he would be choking by now. The girl was attempting to crush his ribs. He looked down at her and resolved to make sure she was safe.

America had improved a lot in the past decade. Would take her there. She could disappear. The adoption system was bad, so he would have to find people himself. Please let her know English!

* * *

A few hours later. Well he wasn't sure how long due to those damn new timezones Congress made. They landed in a fairly large town.

She had fallen asleep a few hours ago and her was worried. She wasn't wearing much, and he literally emitted cold. He didn't hesitate to break in a house and pilfer a spare jacket. It was their fault for not locking the door.

She was awake by the time he got back. Her name turned out to be Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova. He asked how she was and she claimed to be alright. He wasn't fooled though, he was 224 years old. He could tell when someone was lying easily. He had watched it enough.

He let it go though. She needed time to mourn.

* * *

He began by stealing food and clothes. He didn't bother with skirts and grabbed thick pants instead. He had already gotten her a jacket... He really didn't want to ask her about her chest size for underwear.

The food he got was bread. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for now.

When he got back she had curled into a ball. He thought she was sleeping at first, but then he heard her sobs. She didn't register his presence.

* * *

Hours later she finally stopped. He had left the clothes, bread, and pair of scissors. There was no more he could do.

* * *

A/N: I did all the Russian using an online translator. I know nothing about the language myself so I apologize. I didn't think the conversation would be in English because as much as I wish it, English is not the universal language.

*Hello?

*Who are you?

***I am Jack Frost. I will not hurt you. I want to help.

****Really?

*****I'm sorry! But there is no time for this!

Okay. I know that Anastasia did die on July 18, 1918. I'm just playing with the mythos. I might just make her into a ghost or spirit instead of alive. The bit about time zones is from Wikipedia saying they were established in early 1918.

I have nothing against other Canada and Greenland. I haven't been to either so I can't judge.

Oh yeah, Jack did _not_ take her to Burgess. The scissors are for her to cut her hair. He left because his continued presence would hurt her. He is living cold mind you.

Yes this is dark. I never said the fic would be pure fluff. It's listed as **Angst** for a reason.


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